


Wyvernheart

by timehopper



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alcohol, Established Relationship, Finger Sucking, Food Kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 07:00:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30085224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timehopper/pseuds/timehopper
Summary: Claude tells Ignatz about a rare fruit he used to eat as a child, and Ignatz decides to find it for him.
Relationships: Claude von Riegan/Ignatz Victor
Comments: 8
Kudos: 15
Collections: 2021 Fodland Stimulus Package





	Wyvernheart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pepsi (Pepsiiii)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pepsiiii/gifts).



> Hello all! This fic was a commission for [Pepsi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pepsiiii/pseuds/Pepsi)! I was given a wonderful list of prompts and ships to mix and match, and for this one, I went with Ignatz finding a special fruit for Claude! It was a lot of fun to write and I was super inspired, so I hope you all enjoy this fic.

Derdriu is just as beautiful as Ignatz remembers.

The moment the skyline comes into sight, a smile dawns over Ignatz’s face. He’s been to the city before, countless times; and in many ways it feels like home, despite not having been born or raised in it. His family has had numerous dealings with the other merchants here, trading goods and gossip, and had earned something of a reputation for themselves. No wonder, really, when they had been so favoured by the previous Duke Riegan.

And that’s why they’re here today. The current Duke Riegan has summoned them to discuss “wartime weapons trade” – or so his letter had stated. Ignatz only has a vague idea of what that means, but the very thought that he will get to see Claude again is enough to chase all worry from his mind. Since the Alliance is meant to be neutral, it seems likely Claude just wants to know which lords have been exchanging goods and with whom. What better way to find out than to ask his most trusted merchants, who are on the front lines of said trade? 

When they arrive at Duke Riegan’s doorstep, Claude himself is there to greet them. He bows to them, shares a private smile with Ignatz, and personally leads them to the guest quarters before giving them the run of the estate. He has other matter to attend to, or so he explains, and soon enough he’s bidding the Victors farewell until dinner.

When he leaves, however, his gloved hand brushes against Ignatz’s arm. “Come to my room tonight,” he whispers, so low that only Ignatz can hear. 

Ignatz is not surprised to receive Claude’s summons. It’s almost a routine for them by this point: on every visit, the two of them steal away into the night to enjoy what precious little time they have together before Ignatz inevitably departs. 

Tonight, Claude invites Ignatz to sit at the little tea table by the hearth in the corner of his bedroom. The fire burns powerfully, casting the room in a cozy orange glow and warming it throughout. Ignatz feels right at home here, comfortable in Claude’s presence in a way he’s never been with anyone else. 

“It’s a shame we can’t do this more often,” he says as he watches Claude retrieve a bottle of wine and two glasses from an adjacent room.

Claude pops the cork and the smell of sweet Morfis plum wine wafts from the bottle. The label is unfamiliar to Ignatz – no doubt an import. Evidently, it’s something special Claude had saved for this exact occasion.

“You know, if you took up my offer of knighthood, we could do this all the time.” The wine pours forth from the mouth of the bottle, swirling around the glass before settling in it. Ignatz watches it with fascination, entranced by the way the hearth's firelight catches the glossy reflection of the wine, the way the colour of it changes as more and more fills the glass, the way the surface of the drink settles and flattens. 

He blinks, and Claude pours a second glass, a smile on his face. But there's something else there too, something expectant, patient. He's waiting for an answer. 

“Oh, I – I couldn't,” Ignatz says, face flushing as Claude comes forward and hands him one of the wine glasses. The other stays in his own hand. 

“I thought as much.” Claude doesn't seem bothered; in fact, he seems amused. “You're not ready to be a knight yet, is that it?” 

Ignatz looks into the wine, past the hint of his reflection in its surface. He should feel embarrassed, ashamed. He might have felt that way if anyone but Claude had asked, but Claude has a strange way of knowing these things without being told. It’s something Ignatz has always admired about him.

Claude chuckles softly, the low rumble of his voice as warm as the flickering hearth. “It's okay,” he says. “I'm the same.”

Ignatz looks up in time to watch Claude tip the wine glass back and drink deeply of it, the apple of his throat bobbing as he swallows the drink down. It comes away from his smiling lips, and he sets the glass upon the table before leaning upon it himself, elbows on the wood and interlacing fingers supporting his chin. His tongue peeks out to lick up the last of the wine staining his lips, and Ignatz follows the motion with his eyes, unable to look away. 

“Drink up,” Claude says. “The night is young.” 

And so Ignatz does. He drinks his glass of sweet plum wine, and then another, and another. Claude matches him, drink-for-drink, until the whole bottle is gone and they’ve moved somewhere more comfortable. 

Claude’s bed is vast. Ignatz thinks that if he and Claude were to lie on opposite sides, their hands wouldn’t meet even if they stretched as far as they could. It makes sense for a duke, he supposes, and especially one as powerful as Claude. But Claude has no apparent interest for the luxury of his bed tonight, nor the size: he lies with Ignatz in the middle of it, their legs tangled together and his hands on Ignatz’s back, his neck, his chest, his hair, anywhere he can reach as they kiss and kiss and kiss. 

Claude pulls away with a quiet moan, his lips still parted and his eyes slowly reopening. He smiles and licks his lips the same way he had when he’d caught the dregs of his wine. “You taste good,” he whispers, and in that moment Ignatz realizes that Claude maybe hadn’t held his liquor as well as he’d thought. 

But then again, the flush on his face could just as easily be from all that kissing. 

“It’s the wine,” Ignatz says sheepishly. He’s unable to keep a small, pleased smile from gracing his face, and when Claude sees it, he reaches out and caresses it with his thumb.

“That’s part of it,” he says. “It makes you taste like… fruit.” 

“Fruit?” Ignatz raises a brow. Claude nods, brows pinching in concentration. 

“Yeah. There was this fruit I used to have all the time when I was younger – back before I came to Derdriu. It’s rare, though, only found around Fódlan’s throat.” Claude’s eyes light up as he speaks, fond memories playing behind them that Ignatz desperately wishes he could see. He doesn’t think about the meaning behind Claude’s words, what they mean for his origins – all he thinks about is how happy Claude looks in this moment, how beautiful. 

Ignatz smiles. “Can you describe it?” 

“Yeah.” Claude nods, and his eyes come back into focus, fixed on Ignatz’s face. “It’s like a cross between a pomegranate and a plum. The size and shape of a pomegranate, the colour of a plum. It’s sweet, but not too sweet – more tart, more sour…” His gaze grows faraway again, another wrinkle forming between his brow as he tries to sort out his memories and find the words. “It’s tough on the outside like a pomegranate, and you’re supposed to eat the seeds… but when you bite into them, they gush like an overripe plum.” 

“It sounds amazing.” 

“It is.” Claude smiles. His hand slides from Ignatz’s face to his neck, and he runs his thumb over the pulse point. “I think tasting that Morfis wine on you made me think of it. I almost completely forgot about those fruits until now. Wyvernheart, I think they’re called.”

Something glows, warm and pleasant, in Ignatz’s chest at the thought that  _ he _ was the one who made Claude smile like this. It’s not the first time, not by a longshot – but that sort of smile on him, the free and genuine look of someone truly content, seems to have become rarer and rarer on Claude’s face these days. Being the Alliance’s Grand Duke must be exhausting.

It’s nice to know he can do something to relax Claude, even if just for one night. He’ll be leaving Derdriu with his family tomorrow, setting off to Ordelia. And though he’d love to spend the entire night talking about these fruits and listening to Claude reminisce, they do not have the time to spare. And so, rather than asking more questions, Ignatz shuffles forward on the bed and kisses Claude breathless. 

He may not be able to do much, but he vows to himself that he will do whatever he can to keep Claude smiling.

* * *

Months pass before Ignatz and his family are summoned back to Derdriu. When at last they are, Ignatz begs to spare a day to stop in Goneril, right at the base of the mountains. His mother tuts at him, tells him they shouldn’t keep Duke Riegan waiting, but he promises her that it will be worth it. 

And oh, is it ever. 

When Claude accepts the basket full of wyvernheart fruit Ignatz hands him, the entire room lights up with his smile.

“Are these what I think they are?” Claude asks, his delight evident in his voice. There’s no trace of his usual mask up, no pretense of calm. Claude is  _ excited _ . Happy. 

Ignatz beams. 

“I think so.” He follows Claude to the table and sets the basket down. “But you’ll have to actually try one to make sure.” 

“Way ahead of you, Ignatz.” Claude has already plucked a fruit from the basket. He grins and leans down to slip a hidden blade out of his boot (a sight that used to terrify Ignatz, but one he’s since come to think fondly of) and lifts it to the fruit. He cuts a slice out of it, the juices of some nicked seeds flowing out where he’s cut into them. Claude grins. 

“Oh, this is it, all right,” he says. And then he opens his mouth to take a bite. 

When Claude had said before that the fruit would gush, he wasn’t kidding. Sticky pink juice, translucent in the firelight, bursts from the tiny gap between the fruit’s pulpy rind and Claude’s lips. It dribbles down his chin luxuriously, and he has to lean over the table to stop it dripping onto the carpet. 

Ignatz can’t look away. He thinks he’d like to paint this moment, to preserve it forever – the bliss on Claude’s face, the way the juice of this nigh-unobtainable fruit catches the light and glistens as rivulets of it slide over his skin. He doubts Claude would appreciate such a portrait of himself, looking as beautiful as he does obscene, but it’s still a nice thought. 

He’s distracted from it when Claude groans, pulls back from the fruit, and licks his lips. He doesn’t manage to catch all the juice, and, knowing he looks a mess, grins sheepishly.

“Sorry,” Claude says, lifting the hand that’s not coated in wyvernheart juice to rub the back of his neck. “I might have gotten a little carried away.” 

Ignatz chuckles despite himself. “Shouldn’t you pick the seeds out and eat them one by one?” he asks. “So you don’t, ah, you know…” 

“Make a mess?” Claude laughs. “Sure, if you want to do it the normal way. But it feels and tastes best biting into it all at once. Here.” He cuts another slice of fruit and offers it to Ignatz. “Try.” 

“Oh, no.” Ignatz backs away, holding his hands in front of him. He can feel his face heat. “I – I got those for you, Claude, you don’t have to—” 

“I want to share,” Claude says softly. He offers the fruit more insistently. “Come on, Ignatz. Please.” 

“Ah… okay.” Flustered, Ignatz accepts the fruit. He starts to pick one of the seeds out, but stops, looking up at Claude for guidance. There’s nothing but a pleased smile on his face, and yet still Ignatz feels like he’s letting him down somehow. So, with a hesitant grin, he lifts the whole slice to his mouth and bites into it.

Sweet, sour, tangy. The flavours explode in his mouth as juice floods it spills out the sides. The wyvernheart seeds are tart, enough so that Ignatz nearly makes a face, but they’re… delicious. Just the right blend of bitter and sweet, sour and saccharine, and the texture—

“Good, right?” Claude’s voice is low, close. Too close. Ignatz hadn’t realized he’d closed his eyes until he opens them and sees Claude, inches from his face, smiling like he’s got a secret and he’s about to let Ignatz in on the scheme. Ignatz swallows, heat washing over him at the intensity of that gaze, and nods slowly. 

“Amazing,” he agrees, breathless. Claude’s smile grows. 

“I told you.” He takes Ignatz’s arm, slides his sticky fingertips up to and around his wrist, smearing the juice that had coated Ignatz’s own hand over his skin. 

“Claude, what are…” 

But Claude doesn’t answer. He just leans forward, pulls Ignatz’s wrist to his mouth, and drags his tongue along his palm. 

“ _ Oh _ .” Ignatz shivers and instinctively tries to pull his hand back, but Claude tightens his grip and moves up until he can suck one of Ignatz’s fingers into his mouth. He runs his tongue along it, sucks indulgently and licks it clean, and pulls off it with a wet  _ pop _ and a smile that could put the stars to shame. 

“Even better than I remember,” he says. And then he stands, pulling Ignatz up with him and walking backwards toward the bed. 

Ignatz grins – a small, wavering thing tinged with budding excitement. He knows exactly what Claude wants and where this night is about to go. “But what about the fruit?” he asks.

“There’s plenty of time to indulge before it goes bad,” Claude says. “But I only have one night with you.”

He pulls Ignatz toward him and kisses him deeply, dragging him down and throwing him onto the bed. And although Ignatz is worried about the fruit spoiling, he knows Claude is right – they do only have one night together.

And Ignatz intends to make the most of it.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this and think you might like to see more, have a chat, or would like to get to know me, please check out my twitter [@tim3hopp3r](https://twitter.com/tim3hopp3r).
> 
> And if you would like to find out how to support me, I have a handy list of links right [here](https://twitter.com/tim3hopp3r/status/1355219789560471554). Please check it out! I wouldn't be able to do this without people like you supporting me. ♥
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


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